Mable's grief was a silencing force as she chased after Redmane, the inquisitor, Ulvos, and three other Primaris Marines she knew not the names of. Undoubtedly being veterans of many wars, and clearly having the same resolve as the one she had watched carry the nuclear device towards his brothers that had gone ahead of him into the Tyranid hive ship, all Mable noticed now was just how silent everyone was as she grieved for someone who was not even dead yet.

It was shameful, and selfish, but she hated these three marines who she knew not the identities of. Thinking of how easy it would have been to exchange one for Sindarion, who was seemingly of greater veterancy than Ulvos, Mable felt bitterness and resentment fester on her heart… and as she looked at the glaive that Ulvos carried, the sickening red lightning reminding her so much of the halo above her head, she wondered if her rage was being amplified because of this bound creature.

Sensing the curiosity of the daemon in her halo who also remained deathly silent as she pushed herself from the low-gravity floor and towards those who stomped and leapt distances towards an unknown direction, Mable would be the first to break the silence of their squad, to no one in particular.

"When does the bomb go off?"

"One hour." Redmane stated immediately, and then gave her worse news yet. "Or whenever Sindarion's hearts fail him. Whichever comes first."

Scowling at the grim assurance to ensure the bomb's detonation, Mable… would reach into her satchel, and pull out the clock and set a fifty-seven-minute timer, as it had been nearly three minutes since these people had teleported inside. Annoyed greatly by this gift of knowledge, Mable… felt a glimmering of hope, that maybe if they could finish their task, she could go back for the others and save Sindarion from his fate he had settled with.

"Does anyone know where we're going?"

"The Norn-Queen historically has been in the central most layer of these ships!" The Ordo Xenos inquisitor informed her, looking at a data-pad that was emitting a green light from its screen. Perhaps scanning the paths of meat and viscera that was before them, the inquisitor spoke bluntly of his intent. "It is a good thing that I offered to come."

"Well it was either bring you with us to satisfy your strange fascination with me, or shoot you in the head." Redmane stated jovially, the ancient human barking a laugh as his armor propelled him forward.

"I have not even begun my questioning of you, traitor! I would bring shame upon the entirety of the Inquisition if you escaped now."

Seeing the female inquisitor move her hand dismissively, the woman chasing after the Angels of Death who had taken the lead as the old man bickered, Mable would be left with rearguard duty… and beginning to feel the reverberations of the hive ship's flesh, she believed it would not be as simple as the inquisitor had made it sound getting to the heart of the beast.

"You know, something is telling me that there's something wrong with that one." Mable heard as she conflagrated what felt like her twentieth Tyranid warrior. Glancing to Ulvos on the other end of their formation, the Sword Brother using a glaive that was emanating a fierce aura and creating small shockwaves as its red lightning jumped forward, Mable couldn't help but agree as she watched the battle brothers armed with combi-bolters begin to focus on their melee sidearms to compete with their vanguard instead of supporting him at range. Hearing the somewhat intelligent realization of the halo above her, Mable was forced to focus back on those that continued to pursue her warband as a venom barb impaled itself on the wall. "I mean, I enjoy killing, maiming, and burning as much as the next one, but… I can't help but feel like that one is more focused on the rhythm rather than the actual killing, maiming, and burning."

"Maybe the Emperor did something to you." Mable offered… and as she felt a disgust wash over her as the halo generated its daemonic energy to block a Tyranid Warrior's spiked blade, Mable would be rejected as she sent her golden fire into the head of the beast, the psychic forcefield being sharper than any sword she could wield in this moment.

"Do not mention the Anathema by name or title to me. I do not think I'll ever be able to satiate the humiliation I suffered, no matter the blood or skulls. I am infinitely changed, altered, and mutilated by that… creature." The daemon stated… and, finishing off the last of the creatures at their party's back, Mable would be yelled at to catch up by Redmane.

"Mable! Hurry! We're going to seal this corridor!" The woman shouted, and as she watched the older inquisitor produce what seemed to be a melta bomb from his belt, Mable grunted in exertion as she pushed herself off the ground, still holding the conversation with the daemon above her.

"Is he really that bad in your eyes?"

"Yes! He is the worst, making things… neat, and orderly, and precise, when it should be wild, and chaotic. How dare he try to establish rules in a space defined by the lack of sense! What an asshole. He's nothing like Khorne, whose throne grows by the moment."

"Your god sits on a throne too, huh?" Mable muttered, moving forward past the inquisitors who primed the explosive, and then rushed to keep up with her and the space marines she was now chasing after. Passing by the strewn remains of lesser Tyranids, Mable would look at the many severed heads of Hormagaunts, Termagants, and Genestealer heads that had died within the tightly packed meat hallway they were traversing. Thinking of how the Emperor had ascended after being horribly injured in combat by the Arch-Enemy, Mable questioned the daemon. "What's his excuse?"

"What?"

"For sitting around."

There was a tactical pause.

"What?" The daemon repeated.

"Well, he can walk, right?"

"I… don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? Weren't you created by him?" Mable asked, now annoyed at the cagey daemon who had claimed it was forced into being honest. "Answer the question! Can he walk or not?"

"I don't know." The daemon honestly aired… and as she scoffed at that, Mable questioned the spiritual being having a crisis of existence over her head.

"For being a war god, he seems pretty lazy. You'd think that he'd be up, walking around and fighting if he really liked it that much."

"If… if not for his competition, he likely would!"

"Likely?"

"He definitely would!" The daemon spoke, Mable covering her head as the explosion of the melta-bomb went off, sending a shockwave that carried her closer to the space marines who were losing themselves in the slaughter of the aliens.

"Ulvos!" Mable shouted through her vox she had kept off until this moment, and as she saw the Sword Brother snap his helmet towards her, the warrior raising his weapon as if to strike her as she slowly approached, she would point her sword forward towards the fork within the meat path… which his head turned to in realized hesitation. "Calm yourself! Do you know where we're going?"

"He is competing in the Great Game. He cannot be expected to just… walk around at will. If he were to get distracted for even a moment, the others would overtake him!"

"Overtake him? Isn't he all powerful?" Mable asked, scoffing at the weakness that this daemon had just told her of his master and creator. Looking at the ancient inquisitor who had come to join the Sword Brother in this moment of peace, using his data-pad before gesturing downwards, Mable continued her interrogation. "That's what you said, right?"

"Of course."

"Well clearly, he isn't. If he was all powerful, he'd be walking around, killing everyone all the time. Instead, he's sitting because there's a clear and present threat to him if he gets up. It's like he's afraid to lose."

"N-no. Besides, it doesn't matter who the blood flows from – as long as it flows."

"So, you win if you lose?"

"Y-yeah."

"That sounds like a cope to me, but alright." Mable agreed to herself, feeling the confusion, or perhaps even concern, come from the stuttering halo above her.

"Y-your… your feeble human mind just can't comprehend his strategic genius."

"Hey, I'm just saying, my god has a reason to be sitting down. He's keeping the entire imperium together, which, prior to that rift opening, was apparently the biggest conquered territory by any species ever within the galaxy. You may have your infinitely huge yet equally small hell, but we're huge – and not only that, we're also actively in more wars than daemons. Face it, my god is better than yours."

"N-no. The material universe is stupid anyways. We'll-"

"Will both of you shut the fuck up?" Mable heard a new voice cry out… and as she glanced to the glaive that Ulvos was carrying… she would watch the Sword Brother briefly freeze, and turn to her for a moment, perhaps hearing the entity within the weapon for the first time. "I am trying to corrupt the soul of this idiot, and you two are really distracting me."

"Fuck you." Shoshchiroilhl immediately reverberated in her head. "You think that's fucking hard? I'm trying to corrupt this bitch, whose too stupid to even know how doomed her soul is!"

"'Oh, woe is me, I get to corrupt the war-child!' The stupider these creatures are, the easy they fall to chaos, dumb-fuck! If anything, yours should be a simple matter!"

"That's a fucking lie and you know it! Why do you think there are so many geniuses that fall to the Changer of Ways?"

"Because 'Pride' is often paired with 'Intelligence.' Aspects that have somehow missed you during your creation!"

"I survived -two- strikes from the Swarmlord, bitch-boy! That was like fighting the Red Angel! Could you survive a single strike from Angron?"

Silence.

Wondering if the daemon had become quiet because it was being used to kill more Tyranids, or because an honest achievement her daemon had gained was something to genuinely brag about, Mable would scoff at her halo's reaction.

"That's what I fucking thought!" Shoshchiroilhl called, taunting the glaive. "You're just mad that I'm more useful than you are!"

"That's enough." Mable said, her spirit having been successfully lifted… perhaps to the daemon's demerit, if what he had said about corrupting her soul had been true. Seeing the desperation of the Tyranids that were swarming the tunnel they were entering, Mable felt that it was time for her to take the position of the vanguard… and her suspicion would be reinforced as a psychic scream bellowed from in front of her.

Having honestly believed she had stepped foot into hell as she entered the heart of the Tyranid hive ship, Mable would look at the most awful creation she had ever seen. Having dealt with terrors, horrors, and the murderously efficient forms of the Tyranids that had challenged, hunted, and nearly killed her, the creature she now looked at was… disgusting, rather than horrifying.

It was fat, having been, and currently still, gorging itself on a liquid slime that went in one hole of its body and out of another. Having strange, webbed claws that were multi-jointed and webbed, playing with the slop that surrounded it in the pool of slime and liquid mass, Mable froze in just… disgust, as she looked upon the eyeless, chitinous, fatty, entity that lesser minded Tyranid creatures harvested and transported biomass to and from the pool that surrounded it. Looking at the vomiting creatures that then shifted to slurp up different slime that was flowing in currents of steaming, likely terribly smelling matter, Mable fought the urge to vomit in her helmet as she looked at something called 'Queen.'

"Seek cover! Hive Guard!" Ulvos shouted, and as Redmane grabbed her by the waist, Mable would be blinded by the flashing of the melta-gun attachments on the combi-bolters towards the heavily armored, six-legged… defenders, that began to enter the side passages of the heart of the room.

Dodging spikes twice the size of Redmane, the spindly barbs of death impaling the flesh wall behind where they were standing, Mable would realize just how badly they were at a disadvantage as the firefight begun. Unable to properly maneuver in the low gravity, whereas the six-legged monsters of heavier mass could punch into and grab hold of the muscly wall around them to gain stable ground to fire at the invaders with, Mable watched in anger as she floated awkwardly while a Primaris was shot in the chest with an impaling spike. Carried with great force to the nearby wall, the Angel of Death would carry on fighting, the injury not being immediately life ending as he fired the rest of his bolter at the heavily armed entity that Ulvos was trying to approach with – until lesser Hormagaunts rushed in to block his charge.

"Injure the queen." Mable heard the Ordo Xenos inquisitor call out in the fray, Mable defending the man that joined his fellow inquisitor spouting flames from her strange torch-gun towards the horde pushing at them. "The Tyranids understand that her loss will be expensive, and will gladly die to preserve her life, if only for a few moments longer. Mable, you have a free hand, take this canister and deploy it into the sludge the queen sits on."

Slamming the metal canister into her as he freed the plasma pistol mag-locked to his thigh, the inquisitor fired a flaming projectile into the room, striking the Norn-Queen they apparently didn't want to kill. Letting out a terrified psychic screech, the Queen splashed and writhed in pain, before being distracted by the next task that it seemingly felt compelled to vomit up… seemingly unwilling to run, or fight in the face of danger.

And, to her surprise, the Hive Guard did just as the inquisitor predicted. Moving from the entrances, and rushing into the room properly, the creatures ceased firing – and gave the unimpaled marines a chance to close the distance and finish their fights against the lesser Hormagaunts. Mable, taking up the canister by the handle, would get an idea to keep her out of the immediate fire-fight while she didn't have a ranged weapon… and, taking a page out of the Tyranid's book of maneuvering in low gravity, she would use the guard of her sword to impale the flesh wall next to her, and kick up into the air.

Mable wondered how other saints flew, or what it might be like to use real wings. Having to settle for using what little gravity there was on the hive ship naturally, getting above the Norn-Queen that continued to shit and consume slime, using one of its long hands and fingers to physically grab a beetle twice the size and six times the length of a man, and then projectile vomit into its mouth. Wondering if the creature had been doing this since its creation, just consuming, and then dispersing the biomatter it had altered so that it could be carried off by another disgusting creature, Mable would slam over the wall. Watching as the beast showed a semblance of annoyance only when the Ordo Xenos inquisitor shot another plasma bolt that struck the beetle the queen had just inflated with its slime that now began to spill out on the floor, Mable scoffed in disbelief.

Not annoyed as its defenders were culled, or its spawn were stabbed. Only annoyed when the creature that was supposed to transport its altered liquid cargo screeched and died… that was when the Norn-Queen got upset. Unable to tell what the hell the creature's thought processes were, and feeling as though she could just push herself off the wall and engulf it in flame, Mable would instead push herself off to the side, behind the Hive Guard that were distracted with Ulvos's empowered assault.

Pushing to the side was seemingly a good idea, as the Norn-Queen's arm swung up towards her, as if it was a human batting away a fly. Missing Mable entirely, but moving with enough force and reach to slap the ceiling of the room she had just sprung off of, Mable let out an unheard scream of exertion as she landed, dropped the canister, and then realized the entire ship was beginning to rotate.

Grabbing the canister as it threatened to fly past her, the device clearly having been noticed, Mable hissed in anger as she sat up, swung at a charging Hormagaunt coming to protect its queen, and set it ablaze. Staring at the Norn-Queen that was seemingly directing the entire ship as it's largest guards were finally cut down and shot, Mable would stand to her full height… and unlatch the release lock of the canister, freeing the glass jar that the Eldar had made. This action gained an immediate reaction from the Norn-Queen, who sensed the aroma of the liquid that, despite having an unsealed, wobbly top, had yet to spill a drop.

Mable, removing the glass container from the metal canister, would rush towards the Norn-Queen, who struck out, tried to bite at her, and then snapped away on reflex against the psychic blade of flame that rushed towards her. Letting out an unheard hiss, but flaring its nostrils as it continued to sniff the poison with curiosity… Mable would mindfully tap the glass with the hilt of her blade… and seeing the multi-hinged jaws open in what was perhaps a snarl of anger, a laugh was had at the creature's expense.

It wanted the poison.

But it didn't want the flame that guarded it.

Knowing that if it was just given as a gift, it would be suspicious of the liquid and likely inspect it carefully, or perhaps just refuse to spread it to the rest of the hive fleet, Mable had to get the creature to take the delicious aromatic jar from her, while pretending it was just bait to kill the beast. Sensing Hormagaunts around her as she swung out, the seemingly endless stream of reinforcements into the room being a great annoyance, Mable… stumbled as she swung, the last surviving Hive Guard abandoning defense from the Astarte to charge her, as she threatened the queen close to him.

Swinging in an arch, getting closer and closer with her back turned to the queen that was priming itself to slay her, Mable felt a force upon her mind as a reverberation was around the ship.

"Kill it. Kill it. Kill it. Kill it. Kill it." Mable heard the halo utter, or perhaps, had been uttering the entire time. Seemingly pressing against her skull as the psychic pressure continued to weigh down on her, the hive fleet's intelligence trying to inquire into her actions and motives, the daemon would only get louder and louder as it encouraged her bloodshed. "Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill! Kill! KILL! KILL!"

Mable swung in pain, engulfing the Hive Guard in flames, falling, and dropping the vase backwards, into the pool. Immediately descended upon by the Norn-Queen as she truly did slip and fall, Mable abandoned her bait, rolled, swung at the arm of the queen that screeched at her in pain as it was lashed with fire… but did not die. Standing up, pointing her blade at the queen as she rolled out of its arm's length, Mable would feint for the glass vase that contained the liquid which, the creature foolishly moved to protect, slapping acidic biomass from her pool at her, weaponizing the resources to keep what the Eldar had made to allure the Tyranids.

It was a strange dance… but as stronger and more intelligent Tyranids began to move into the room, Mable would see that the space marines had retreated towards their impaled brother, not allowing his unmoving body to be consumed here when he could potentially be saved. Mable, looking at the inquisitors who had been fighting to keep their exit clear gave her a seemingly unified nod to pull back, Mable would point at the creature and shouted at it through her vox.

"Next time."

The psychic scream that bellowed at her was enough acknowledgement, Mable decided as she ran. Joining the space marines and the inquisitors who began tossing grenades behind her and placed a det-pack against the wall respectfully, an absurd number of explosives being removed from small belts and false panels in their armor, Mable would huff with exertion, and give her thanks to the creature that covered for her.

"Thanks for that, Disarray."

"Thanks for what?"

"Uh… shielding my thoughts with your desire to kill?"

"What?" The oblivious daemon asked… and as she just shook her head, running for her life as unheard explosions went off behind them, Mable would look to the timer she had set on Redmane's alarm.

"Everyone! Everyone, come here!" Mable yelled, realizing there was fifteen minutes left until the nuclear bomb detonated. Gathering near her unquestioningly, Mable noticing that the ancient inquisitor was beginning to limp, but didn't seem injured and… the Primaris Marine's red lenses to his helmet were faded and gray, Mable aired a question. "Can anyone reach Sindarion's squad?"

"My data-pad has their location." The man stated through a pained vox… and as she nodded, he would state the obvious. "You won't make it through this maze. There's not enough-"

"Time, I know. Everyone, hold onto me, and him." Mable demanded, and, summoning the low-hum of the universe to her, she would simultaneously snag the inquisitor's data-pad.

Mable was suddenly floating, held on in the infinite black. Looking briefly to the planet of Hisperia and her moon, distant and shining, Mable briefly glanced at the data-pad's frozen screen. Looking to Ulvos, the jetpack on his back still functional, Mable grimaced as she disentangled herself from the group that began to float awkwardly.

"We're not done!" Mable shouted into her vox, reaching for Ulvos and yelling him into action. "Ulvos, come here! Everyone else, don't go anywhere!"

Ulvos did not argue as she made her demand, and, letting go of the glaive that began to rage at being dropped in the middle of the void, Mable looked to the data-pad, showing it to the red lenses of Ulvos's helmet.

Using his jetpack at full force, holding onto her as she was shoved forward, they would cross kilometers of empty space. Spending five precious minutes of just flying, Mable began to search the fabric for the squad near the marker for a moment… but as time continued to tick down, she… couldn't see them.

She couldn't find them.

Where the fuck were they?

Ordering Ulvos to act as her legs in the void, Mable shutting her eyes and closing her mind off from all distractions, searched for anyone living. Anything that wasn't shaped like a bug. A piece of metal. A person, somewhere. Anywhere.

"Come the fuck on." Mable muttered… and then began to pray. "Orb-peror, now is not the time to be fucking with me. Show me where they are."

Eight minutes.

Then seven.

Six.

"Fuck! Ulvos, go faster!" Mable shouted… and then, as she sensed something, she would grab hold of the fabric a millimeter before the great darkness.

And, she would then jump, kicking off of Ulvos on her own, releasing her grip on the fabric, and potentially dooming every person she had just abandoned in the past.

Mable crashed into a Tyranid first, and as she drew the blade of psychic fire, she would realize she truly was swarmed. Seeing the energy field erupt in a flash of red light as the laughter of Shoshchiroilhl burdened her mind, Mable screamed in rage as she saw an arm of black ceramite drowning in the pincers of a thousand Hormagaunts that seemed to have fallen from the ceiling above them. Wondering if Sindarion and his squad had stupidly fallen into a trap, Mable screamed in chorus with the Tyranids who were too packed together to get out of the way of the psychic flame that cut, seared, and burned them.

Rushing to the arm, Mable grabbed hold of it. Pulling up the dead marine she had cleared of claws and teeth, Mable stared at the unfamiliar helmet, and then ruthlessly let it go, unable to do anything for the dead. Continuing to swing as she raged with her vox on, Mable screamed out, searching for the one who had seemed at peace wanting to die in this shit hole.

"Sindarion! BROTHER!" Mable shouted, this being the only chance she had to find him. Committed now, Mable waved her blade through what had to be hundreds of fodder these Tyranids deployed… and as she heard her name faintly called out over a damaged vox-caster, she raced forwards as a detonation of green fire erupted from the mass of creatures.

"Mable."

Clearing the one who had just distinguished himself with a spray of bug parts, green blood, and general biomatter from the ship itself, Mable crashed onto the black ceramite that had its aquila torn off… and as she swung, locking her leg around the ceramite plating, Mable grabbed hold of the low-hum of reality, and sent them even further backwards, blindly.

Staring at a different time of Hisperia… but one she had visited before, Mable… saw the moon. Saw the massive, moon-spanning ship colored gold. Wondering if this was the time period she had visited while flying back to Hisperia in the Night Shroud, Mable… let out a scoff of disbelief as she saw the golden eagle mounted on the front of the city-sized vessel… and… looking to the red-lenses that stared up at her, Mable… pointed at it with her blade to the one barely moving in the void.

"I… I think that's the Emperor."

"How… fortunate." The quiet voice of Sindarion stated… and as she looked down at his waist…

She wished she hadn't.

She wished, in this moment, that she hadn't returned to him.

She had wished that their previous goodbye had truly been their final one as regret washed over her, and she felt her heart sink into her stomach. Having thought the grief had been removed from her in the fire and death of her foe, Mable… already felt her face burning with a new wave of tears.

It wasn't just his legs that had been sheared off. If it was just those, she knew she could do something. Looking at the belt of pouches that had to have armor repair stuff, or medical gel, or something to help the one whose guts were spilling out into space, turning into crystalline matter before her, Mable tried, to… do something. To find something. Checking her pack, looking at the ship that was just… hundreds, if not thousands of kilometers away, Mable… realized that there were just too many holes in the man.

"You should… have waited." Sindarion breathed out, oxygen from his helmet escaping the torn beak that… was melting, from acid that had been sprayed into his face.

"It's… going to be okay." Mable lied… unwilling to face the reality before her as she found liquid ceramite that was designed to be put in wounds and armor gaps, just for… instances like this. Trying to plug as many holes as she could, ignoring the Tyranid blades and biomatter that was floating around her in space, Mable… stared, as the vibration of the timer went off… and as she hung her head in shame, feeling the detonation of nuclear energy across time as she began to move them forward to get to Ulvos who could help… Mable would feel a hand on her arm.

"Wait."

"What? I… I can't do anything for you. I need to get you to Ulvos, and the others, so… they can help."

"Mable… you're going to have to… wait thirteen more hours after that. Just… wait."

Holding onto the ceramite… and then nodding her head as tears burned down her face, Mable… laughed… over the vox as she clung to the dying man who… she truly considered her brother.

"I… thought I was all cried out. I'm sorry for… laughing, but… oh, it just hurts so much, Sindy. It hurts so much." Mable cried, not wanting to, but feeling obligated to cry. As she floated weightlessly holding onto the angel that had been with her the longest, Mable continued to cry.

"I… am happy." Sindarion told her, inflicting a terrible wound on her heart as she cried… feeling the gauntlet weakly on her arm… and doubly so as he repeated his next words through the stupid, silly vox that was wrapped around his idiot head. "I was lucky to have met you… regardless of what comes next."

She wailed as she watched the red lights of the man's helmet lenses fade… and screamed at the uncaring and cruel universe as Sindarion died before her.

For hours she cried, her brain telling her that she was wasting oxygen… then, as she felt a machine beep, Mable… realized that a recovery beacon had activated on Sindarion's body. Having not heard it over the screaming anger in her head, Mable's grief froze for a moment as she saw lights coming towards her in the void. Realizing then that she couldn't be captured here, even if they would take her to the Emperor, Mable would lower her head to the chest armor of the space marine, and then push herself away from him.

Making a promise to see Sindarion again, Mable would hold tighter to the aquila he had ripped off his own helmet earlier, and then, liking the idea that his body truly would go to the Emperor's side, Mable… vanished from her brother.

Sending herself forward a few thousand years, and then searching for Ulvos in the fabric of the future, Mable would find him… and reappear a few dozen meters away from where she had left the marine floating.

"Mable?" The vox cried over her helmet… and as the Black Templar shifted gently with the bare activation of his jetpack, she would take hold of the arm she then hugged. Wishing that she wasn't questioned in the caring, fatherly tone, Mable winced at the heart-rending question. "Did… you find him?"

"Yes." Mable whispered over her still active vox… and then with a grave finality that she truly hated, spoke coldly to the man. "He is with the Emperor now."

"I mourn his loss." Ulvos whispered into his unpowered vox… but as she clung to him, her own sorrow was easily transmitted. Moving them to the survivors of the battle, the two Primaris Marines holding a weightless vigil over the one who had succumbed to the wounds of the impaling weapon they had freed him from, whose body acted as a small bit of solid ground for the two inquisitors that were intertwined… Mable… would see that she was not the only one going through a terrible goodbye.

"It's okay." The aged voice of the unnamed Inquisitor told Redmane, the woman's gauntleted hand continuing to to slide up and down the flank of his armor… that had been cracked by either a flesh-borer or some other foul xeno weapon sometime during the fighting.

"I'm sorry for not getting to you in time." Redmane's voice transmitted for all to hear.

"Do not… be." The scraggily voice of the ancient creature stated… and as Redmane's unseen face hid what she sensed was real grief, Mable was brought forth by Ulvos. "Xeno-girl. Come. Your wish is made true. I am dead."

"No, you're not." Mable stated… the dead being incapable of speaking.

"Metaphorically." The heard elder stated over the vox. "Literally… soon."

"I'm sorry." Mable stated… and as she truly was dried out of tears, a coldness in her torn heart having formed… she would be struck on the shoulder by the grasping metal hand of the man whose name she did not even know.

"Do not grieve me. I am your enemy. All of my kind, are your enemy. Do not trust inquisitors, you wretched… awful… being. I would spend every hour of my life to slay you, were I to live. So… do not grieve me."

"I… won't." Mable whispered, hearing a dying laugh from the man get emitted.

"Good. But even were I not an inquisitor, I would still hate you."

"Why?" Mable asked… and as he just shook his head… the helmet locking into place facing Redmane… she… showed she was willing to help the man find peace, here. "Do… you want me to send you to the Emperor? He is… nearby, about twelve-thousand years ago. Sindarion… is with him."

"No." The inquisitor… strangely, yet immediately stated. Muttering his final words before her, Mable… would feel that same song… of union, within her heart as the inquisitor died. "I prefer… the company of my mother."

"W-what?" Mable asked… and as the man did not explain further, she would just hear the emitted sigh from the only living inquisitor among their number… as well as her parting words to her son.

"Thank you for waiting for me."